


We Were So Damn Good (I Guess We Never Stood a Chance)

by universe



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Multi, Relationship(s), Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universe/pseuds/universe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Three relationships that could have been, and one that was.</i> The five of them, they're a family now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Were So Damn Good (I Guess We Never Stood a Chance)

_what i need to control isn’t out there. it’s in here. always._

By now, he’s pretty much resigned himself to the fact that he’ll have to face Nate’s wrath one day.

It all started when Nate was in prison. That’s no excuse, but he’ll be damned if he lets clichés rule (ruin) this relationship of his too.

He’d always known Sophie was attractive. Had to be, to grift from the richest of the rich, from the most powerful men (and women) in the country (any country). But between knowing and experiencing lies the difference of night and day when it comes to Sophie Devereaux. Now, he _notices_ her. The way she drawls that southern accent, the feel of the thin fabrics she dresses in when he helps her get ready for a con, the smell of her enveloping him as the team’s lives merge.

With Nate gone, they’ve all had to adapt, to change their lives a little, their routines. Parker hangs out at Hardison’s most evenings now, Sophie has all but moved into their mastermind’s apartment-turned-office, and Eliot… Eliot is everywhere and nowhere all at once, just like it’s always been. Except now there are times when he stays a little longer after making dinner, or when he feels a little lonelier once he actually does go home.

One of the new routines they’ve started is this: Once or twice a week, depending on how much time they have, he teaches Sophie krav maga, a technique he picked up in Israel years ago, but one that he rarely gets to use. And she’s learned to appreciate his movements, she’s even making an effort to copy them, the slow, sensual turns of her body much more enticing than they have any right to be. But she is Nate’s, and he would never touch her for that reason alone. (Or so he thinks. It’s not the first time he’s proven wrong, and it certainly won’t be the last.)

And then one evening, long after the others have gone, he and Sophie are left at the office-turned-apartment. There’s really not much to it—he drinks beer, she’s holding a glass of her favourite white wine, they’re talking softly, an ordinary evening that follows an ordinary day (or what counts as ordinary when you’re part of a merry band of thieves with a Robin Hood complex)—, but then she puts her glass down and her hand onto his leg, leans into him just so, and for a moment, he forgets that she’s a con artist, a thief like him. For a moment, all he can think about is how much of an idiot he’s been for not having seen it sooner, this thing between them that has been slowly growing and now decided to sneak up on him and hit him over the head with a bag of bricks. Not that he really minds. This time.

Ironically, Nate is the furthest thing from his mind when their lips touch and his beer is knocked over onto the carpet by either (or both) of them as they scramble to get closer.

 

It takes several hours for reality to kick in, and his groan can’t be contained, no matter how hard he tries.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and Eliot thinks he hears a vulnerability in her voice that’s never been there before, as if he’d tell her this was all a big mistake, that she’d better go, thank you, ma’am, we won’t be requiring your services anymore tonight. But he’s not a mark, and she’s not a grifter, not right now. But she’s still not _his_.

“Nothing,” he makes a show of kissing her forehead to reassure her, “it’s just… when Nate finds out about this…”

Sophie… giggles. He almost can’t believe it.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this horrified, Eliot,” she replies, still close to outright laughter. (He likes the way she says his name when she’s Sophie (not Annie or Kristi or Kitty), the way it loses the hard ending in (what he assumes is) her native accent.) He almost misses what she says next.

“Nate left. He has no right to be mad. He has no right to feel _anything_ about this. He left us, and now we’re cleaning up his mess. Again.”

She doesn’t say that it was _her_ he left, again, and Eliot doesn’t ask if she’ll go back to Nate the first chance she gets. Some questions are better left unanswered. Instead, she distracts him with fingers, lips, and teeth, and it feels like a new beginning. Not a bad evening, all things considered.

 

* * *

_i think that, maybe, i might be having feelings. like weird, weird feelings… f—for… pretzels._

“Dammit, Hardison!”

It’s the third time he’s caught them making out, and really, they could at least _try_ to be subtle about it. (He’s not sure what annoys him more—that everyone but him seems to have found somebody, or that these two lovebirds of all people hooked up. He’d had his chance, and he made the wrong choice. Not that he’ll ever forget about Aimee, but he’d long ago accepted that he might just be alone for the rest of his miserable life.)

He’s not exactly _jealous_ , but it was just so unexpected. Of course, walking in on them while they were already half-naked hadn’t helped matters much. When he really thinks about it, though, they’re pretty perfect for each other—they’re both equally annoying, for one. And Hardison has always cared about Parker more than any of the others, and that says a lot, considering how close they all are now. But there’s always been something between these two, and as long as they’re happy, who’d he be to disapprove.

Of course that doesn’t mean they can just forget everything around them whenever they feel like it. This is _his kitchen_ , after all. (Well, maybe not by law, but he always cooks for them all, and dammit, he’s _earned_ this; a place of his own in their screwed up little office.)

“Get out of here!” he points his finger, thoroughly annoyed, “Now!”

Hardison scrambles to get all his clothes into place again, and Eliot almost grins at the obvious respect the guy has for him. Parker, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as impressed, merely rolling her eyes and poking at his newest bruise (courtesy of a gangbanger he then immobilised). He suppresses a hiss.

They don’t look back at him, instead hell-bent on getting out of the apartment as quickly as possible, most likely going back to Hardison’s place (because Parker’s warehouse is just _weird_ ). They don’t see Eliot looking after them, watching them as Hardison puts his hand on Parker’s back and guides her out the door that he’s holding open for her. A small smile on his face now because of how gentle and considerate they’ve become around each other, Eliot can’t help but think that yes, they do fit together well.

 

* * *

_i still don't understand how you can mix up paris and tuscany._

When Sophie is angry about something, starting a conversation about it will only make it worse. Eliot has learned that the hard way. Nate, however, seems not to have realised. He brings up issues as soon as they crop up. (Only hers, of course, never his own.) You’d think he’d have learned by now not to, but maybe he’s just blind (wouldn’t be a first when it comes to Sophie), or loves winding her up ( _far_ from being a first, this one).

Either way, they’re still fighting as much now as they did before they got together. He suspects some of the fights just have a different ending than they did before, but that’s between them. He’s actually (more than) a little glad it’s none of his business anymore.

Nate drinks less now, too. He hasn’t stopped completely, no, but none of them really expected him to. Not after… everything. But he’s finding a balance, and Eliot can’t help but think that Sophie was the driving force behind this change. Other than that, though, Nate’s still the same old bastard that he’s been since they first met. He still says things just to see what kind of reaction he’ll get, he still pushes them, especially Sophie. And Sophie still lets him.

 

Today is no different:

“Remember Malta?”

Sophie’s clearly lost in a memory of a time and a place long ago.

“Oh, you mean when you stole my passport _and_ told the authorities _I_ was the one who’d stolen the painting?”

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” Sophie says, and if he didn’t know her as well as he does, he’d be fooled by the (almost) perfect lie. But he suspects if _he_ caught it, so did Nate. It’s no secret they’ve known each other forever.

“Of course you don’t… How about that time in Rome? You handcuffed me to the bed and took the key with you.”

Not even Sophie manages to pull off an innocent look this time, and Eliot isn’t sure he wants to hear more about this particular incident between them.

“Well _you_ very rudely arrested me a month before that. Ruined my brilliant plan…”

“You stole a Picasso! And that wasn’t the only thing you took, was it?”

Eliot can hear the conversation shift now, and realises Sophie’s being set up. With Nate, it’s all about what he says, never how he says it. But for Eliot, nothing is as important as gestures, facial expressions. He knows most people don’t know what to say or how to say it in any given situation, but he understands them anyway. (It’s the only reason he can stand being around Parker sometimes, when she’s doing her crazy thing.)

Sophie’s eyes are narrow now, she has noticed Nate is up to something (thankfully, Eliot thinks), and he so doesn’t want to be anywhere near them once she calls Nate on it. His retreat is like everything else he does: quiet, but systematic; quick, but (almost) casual. He doesn’t even think they see him leave.

 

* * *

_there’s something wrong with you._

In a weird way, Parker keeps him sane. Grounded. Nothing like a crazy person to remind you of how _not_ to behave in public. (Or anywhere, ever.)

Sometimes, he’s not sure how to deal with this new development, but whenever he’s close to freaking out, he grows quiet and _looks_ at them. The five of them, they’re a family now, and the fact that he and Parker have started going home together doesn’t change anything about that. They don’t talk about any of it, but everyone knows, and they’re all fine with it, so why wouldn’t he be, too?

And sometimes, he still thinks it’s insane he hooked up with Parker of all people. But then she’ll do something sweet for him, without even meaning to, and he’s reminded that the whole thing is definitely worth it. They’re a family for a reason, after all.

She has this way about her, he thinks, of simplifying things. He’s always thought too much, he knows that. It’s what he does. When there’s something bothering him, he works out, throws some punches at his worn-out bag or runs a few miles. But when something’s _really_ bothering him and physical strain merely takes the edge off instead of actually helping him sort things out, he overthinks. Parker notices these moments, when he goes quiet, even more so than usual; and when he _does_ talk, there’s a sharp edge to it, as if he might snap any minute.

And then Parker will say something, her hand almost touching his, and it will be completely random or completely ridiculous, like a child telling its parents the world’s problems could be solved by taking away all the bad guys’ guns. And he’ll laugh, and things will be _simple_.

That isn’t to say Parker is the only driving force in their relationship. She has her own demons, but they’re not thoughts, they’re memories. He knows why she never lets herself get too close to people, and when she wakes up from yet another nightmare (the third one this week, and it’s only Thursday), shaking a little, the murmured “don’t leave me”s and “I didn’t do anything wrong”s still on her lips, he holds her close. (He’s always been good at comforting people, at keeping them safe.)

They’re both broken in their own way, but together, they’ve found ways to fix each other.

 

One day, long after Parker has gotten over her silly fear of horses (Eliot knows about fears, but this is one he’ll never understand), he takes her to a horse stable just outside of Boston and puts her onto a beautiful Arabian (helps her onto it, and holds her hand all through the first half hour of riding, but they won’t tell anyone about _that_ later). She’s braver than she gives herself credit for, and he’ll be damned if that doesn’t make him more than a little proud, too.

She tries to return the favour and teach him one of her tricks, too, but once she answers his wary question with a slightly crazy grin, he declines. “We’ll do that some other time.” He’s got more to lose than just his own life now.

Of course things aren’t always rosy. They fight, like any couple, like any two people stuck in the same room together for too long. Whenever she gets one of her insane ideas, he says there’s something wrong with her, but she never seems to mind (much).

He pretends not to like her most of the time. He pretends not to like many things. It’s the way he was brought up, “Never get attached to anyone,” and it’s only amplified by the things he used to do (will never do again). And now here he is, with a family and a girlfriend, and sometimes, he wants to fucking _laugh_ at himself for the man he has become.

At the end of the day, though, he’s still Eliot, and Parker’s still Parker, and the rest of the team are who they’ve always been, too, only they’ve… grown. They’re bleeding into each other, lines are being blurred, and he’s never known an inner peace quite like this before.


End file.
